


Dreams like Sand between Fingers

by astralelegies



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst, Day One, F/M, Gen, Post-Canon, Royai Week, Royai Week 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 13:52:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4103305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astralelegies/pseuds/astralelegies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They don’t do this, this casual exchange of admiration of one another’s presence that transcends the ordinary praise of skill or merit. They don’t come so close to a confession of something deeper. The war is over now, and the Promised Day too, but old habits die hard and they are both too stubborn to break years’ worth of carefully constructed silence. They have too many ghosts to believe it could be accomplished so easily."</p><p>For Royai Week 2015, day one: dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreams like Sand between Fingers

Riza Hawkeye doesn’t know which is worse: the nightmares of her bloody deeds in Ishval that will forever haunt her sleep, or the impossibility of the dream she carries with her in her waking moments. She has a priority list of things to accomplish before she can feel like she’s become worthy of the fantasy her heart clings to— _One, save the world; two, help democratize Amestris and win the election; three, tell Roy Mustang you’re in love with him. Also, make sure he does his paperwork._

She’s only barely gotten around to the first item on that list, and out of them all it feels like the easiest. Changing the country is more daunting a prospect than protecting it. Protection is something she knows. _It’s the least we tiny humans can do for each other._ That’s how the colonel always puts it, and it’s true. _Not colonel_ , she reminds herself, _general, now._

He’s leaning in the doorway of her office with that downright magnetic smile of his, the one Hawkeye pretends she’s immune to just to annoy him. 

“Lieutenant colonel.”

“General. To what do I owe the pleasure.”

She doesn’t phrase it as a question because his answer is irrelevant; she knows it’ll be a contrived excuse to come and see her. 

“You have your own office now.”

She cocks an eyebrow at him. “Really, sir? I hadn’t noticed. It’s only been two weeks since I moved in.”

“Two weeks in which I’ve hardly caught a glimpse of you,” he grins at her, “I can’t do without my queen. She’s the most important piece.”

And Riza knows it’s only a code, that name of hers, but even now it still gives her a thrill to hear him say it. She knows she’s never been anything but important to him, and she wishes she could find the words to tell him the same thing.

Instead she says, “I’ve been busy getting everything settled here, but I’ll be back to working with you in no time. You’re next door, remember?”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause. 

“Sir?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re procrastinating again, aren’t you.” 

Mustang wilts a little. “Not fair, lieutenant.”

“Colonel.” She smirks at him.

“Colonel. My apologies.” He gets a look on his face like he wants to say something important, and Hawkeye thinks back on the countless times she’s seen that expression. 

There was a night in Ishval, a rare one when the dust of the fighting had temporarily settled and as many stars as she’d ever seen hung effervescently over the desert sands. She snuck away from camp with Mustang and Hughes to gaze up at them. They lay on their backs, side by side, staring into the abyss and trying desperately to reclaim the idealism of their youth. It had been slipping through their fingers for so long like blood, but here time itself stood still. 

“Before I left I told Gracia to look up at the stars every night,” Hughes said, “I told her I would do the same thing. We’ll see the same stars. This is the first time I’ve been able to keep that promise. I think…I think she’s the only thing I have left to hold onto.”

“Not me. I’ve got all that.” Roy raised his arms in an expansive gesture at the stars. It would have been almost comical if he wasn’t so earnest. 

Hughes elbowed him. “You’re such a dreamer, Mustang.”

“What about you, Hawkeye?” Mustang asked, “What are you holding onto?”

Riza didn’t know. She supposed she must have something, otherwise she wouldn’t be here. Here, staring at the sky with two of the only friends she had left, it felt like the weight pressing down on her back had temporarily lifted, and she could taste clean air again.

“I’m still breathing,” she said. 

She wonders if he’s thinking about that night, because he’s studying her now in the same way he did then. 

“I sometimes wonder how you can never cease to amaze me,” he comments in a low voice.

He’s broaching dangerous territory. They don’t do this, this casual exchange of admiration of one another’s presence that transcends the ordinary praise of skill or merit. They don’t come so close to a confession of something deeper. The war is over now, and the Promised Day too, but old habits die hard and they are both too stubborn to break years’ worth of carefully constructed silence. They have too many ghosts to believe it could be accomplished so easily. 

“What’s truly amazing is the way you forever manage to avoid doing your paperwork, sir,” she says. 

“You’re not going to let that go, are you?”

“Three months until election time. There’s plenty to be done.”

“As long as you’re there to help me do it.” 

Riza steps a little nearer to him. “I did tell you I’d follow you into hell.” 

Something passes between them. A question, maybe, or an answer, or perhaps neither at all. One of them draws in a barely audible breath. 

_I’m still breathing._

“Do you ever wonder about what we’re doing?” she asks suddenly, “Not if it’s worth it, I know it is. But who are we to dream of a better world when we’ve done so much to make it a more painful one?”

He doesn’t answer her right away. When he does it’s in the same voice he used when he was looking at the stars. 

“You told me once it was our duty to carry the bodies of the dead across a river of blood to a brighter future. I have to hold onto the thought that that future is possible, and actively work towards making it happen, because the alternative is giving up and failing the lives I couldn’t save, and I can’t do that. I will never give up.”

Riza smiles with just her eyes.

“What?”

“I sometimes wonder how you can never cease to amaze me,” she tells him seriously.

A better world. It’s all she’s ever dreamed of, and maybe she will never be worthy of it and maybe it will never even come to pass, but she swore not to give up a long time ago and she can’t forget about that now. They have saved the world, and they will win the election, and she will confess her feelings to the general when the work making up for the past is finished and Amestris can begin to move forwards once more. And Roy Mustang will do his paperwork. 

She knows what she is going to tell him. 

_You inspire me. To inspire is to breathe and to breathe is to dream and you, Roy Mustang, you dream more than anyone I’ve ever known. I think all of the stars this galaxy contains must have been lit by the fire of your dreams, Flame Alchemist. Perhaps we are called monsters, but as long as those stars are still up there, as long as we’re still breathing, we’re still dreaming. We can be dreamers together, you and I. And all this to say I love you, because when I say I love you I mean you inspire me. You have shown me what it is to dream._

One day, when the time comes, all of this she will tell him. She promises herself that. 

For today she keeps dreaming.


End file.
